


Valentine’s Day

by RobinWritesChirps



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Cheating, F/M, Happy Ending, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23184844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinWritesChirps/pseuds/RobinWritesChirps
Summary: Ted gets much more than a text from Charlotte. He had thought she had plans for Valentine’s Day. She had thought the same, too. Sam had wholly different plans, though.Shameless smut and FEELINGS of my favorite trash ship.
Relationships: Charlotte/Ted (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 54





	Valentine’s Day

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I had hoped to post this one for Valentine’s Day but when Barneston comes a knockin’, I listen so. Enjoy a month too late :)

As a rule, Charlotte never texted. Part of that, Ted suspected, was to blame on how helpless she could be with new technology and she had yet to fully master the use of anything beyond a land line. Mostly, though, she simply kept all her tracks covered and textual evidence of their relation was strictly forbidden. When his phone lit with a notification from her number, he was almost convinced it must have been Sam himself searching him out for a confrontation.

It was a slow night. For Valentine's Day, Ted had made it his mission to hit the hay with the first girl he could find who had been stood up, to comfort her with a good dicking. No such luck had fallen onto him, however. He wasn't entirely sure if he was frustrated or relieved by the sight of all the happy couples around him at the bar. As of late, the chase of new ass had started to tire him out. What was the point of it when twice or thrice a week he had Charlotte's legs around his waist or his neck, when she was a better, more familiar fuck than any new girl? But Charlotte had her husband, no matter how artificial the marriage had become, and Ted passed the nights without her any way he could.

_Can you come over? Charlotte_

If it had been anyone else, if it had been Bill, he would have taunted and sneered her clumsy texting ways. He replied on the spot.

_sure_

Charlotte and Sam had a comfortable small suburban house, picket fence and chimney and all the fugly garden decorations Charlotte's little heart had wished for. He could only spot Charlotte's car when he pulled over a bit farther down the street. A knock at the door and she opened to him in her silk robes, a tumbler in hand. She went back to crash on the couch without a word. The bottle on the coffee table was very generously started on, though he had no firm evidence that this was just from tonight.

"Well, you haven't waited for me, have you," he said.

She scoffed and gulped down half of the content of her glass. Ted sat next to her, hand on her knee.

"I was waiting for _Sam,_ " she said.

He didn’t know whether it was to her credit or her shame that her voice was entirely unchanged, not even a little tipsy from hard liquor. He gently took the glass from her to have a sip, ignoring her pouting as he put it down out of her reach. She sank easily into the arms he opened to her. She smelled of soap, something nice that clashed with the taste of alcohol at her lips when he kissed her. Trailing kisses down her jaw into the crook of her neck, he breathed her in.

"He left you all alone, huh?" He nibbled the lobe of her ear, pulled her close by the waist. "What a dog."

But instead of repaying the attention, Charlotte was unmoved and fretting and Ted dropped the advances. The point of seducing her was basking in how receptive she could be, hot and ready before clothes were even off. If she wasn’t interested, then neither was he.

"What is it?" He asked.

She bit her lip and looked away, hugging herself. Ted pulled her chin to him. Pretty eyes, pretty face. He did like her so much. For no other woman would he sit here on her sofa on Valentine’s Day with no sign of getting laid in the immediate future.

"It’s silly, really…"

He almost thought she would never actually say it but after some time, she took a big breath and explained.

"He, erm, he had promised to get takeouts and come home early so that we could… spend the night together…" Ted huffed. "But he never came and he’s just called me to say he won’t be home till very late…"

He held her hands. Sam’s assholery seemed to be even worse than Ted’s, which was a feat in itself. He didn’t understand it. Charlotte was a sweet thing, sometimes overly so. She was devoted and attentive. Any man would be lucky to have her for a wife.

"I think he might be seeing someone else," she whimpered desperately.

How she was capable of launching such accusations when she had just called her dick on the side for comfort in her own husband’s home, Ted could not say. He took another swig of the drink. It was very strong, but very sweet to hide just how much, too.

"That’s a concern of yours?"

He might as well have asked why she breathed, why she drank. Worry came to Charlotte just as natural.

"Of course it is!" She replied, stunned that he would dare to ask. "Sam’s been… distant… for a long time, but recently he’s just…"

Ted knew what she meant, of course. The truth was always skirted around and she had never, ever admitted it, but there was no hiding that her husband had been neglecting her for years. How anyone could refuse her advances, Ted did not understand, but he knew thirst when he saw it. He knew he fucked her good and often, and surely that must be a reason why she kept coming back to him. The greater reason, however, why she was so eager to accept him, surely had to do with her not getting her fill otherwise for God knew how long.

In an odd curious way, he did wonder if Sam had been seeing someone else. Maybe getting his dick wet elsewhere wouldn’t let him give Charlotte what she so craved. Ted had occasionally noted some crude remarks she had made him in the fiercest of passion about how hard he was and he liked to imagine that he was winning at least this comparison − if nothing else, at least he got it up when Charlotte wanted him, at least he could give her that. Or maybe there was no one else and Sam had just gotten bored of his little wife. Charlotte had practically rubbed herself off on Ted from the very moment he had begun to speak more than two words in a row to her. That kind of loneliness was criminal from Sam, no matter the reason.

"You should leave him," he said.

She was absolutely horrified and tore her hands from his like they had been burned.

"I can’t leave my husband!" She told him for the hundredth, thousandth time. "I… He’s my husband!"

Ted sighed. He made himself more comfortable on the couch, parting his legs, an elbow on the back to lean on and stare at her.

"And why not, Charlotte?" He asked, too numb to really be frustrated anymore. "You think you can’t do it?"

She made to take another swig of her glass but he stopped her hand. Clasping their fingers together, he brought it to his lips and kissed the flat of her thumb, her knuckles.

"You think you’re not strong enough?" Another kiss at the wrist, where her skin was softest of all. "I think you are."

"Ted…"

He scooted in closer and pulled her to him. A flicker of hesitation before she crashed into the kiss he gave her with all the hunger he knew in her. He kissed her jaw, her neck, and let go of her hand for her to comb it through his hair desperately.

"You could be happy, you know," he muttered at her ear.

Charlotte always, always rebuked his attempts to get her to leave Sam but, perhaps fragile on this very day, she said nothing at all. His hand slid between her legs and he palmed her through the thin fabric of her pajamas. She moaned faintly and parted her legs just enough for him to better touch her. There was the Charlotte he knew, the Charlotte thirsting for his attention, if only he could give it to her properly. The affair had gained a level of comfort he had never thought it would. Not by his design, though he took it gladly, they had grown closer, more attuned to each other’s bodies. To their moods, too. He no longer snapped at her for the slightest sign of weakness or hesitation, perhaps because he had stopped expecting a change. Charlotte was alright just the way she was. He liked how he felt around her and he knew that she did, too. He knew her so much better than she allowed.

"You could get your own place," he said, pressing around her clit, basking in the reward of how she bit her lip. "Decorate it with all the ugly shit you want."

She sighed out. Her hips were rolling into his touch a little, enough to embolden him − as if Ted ever needed that.

"That’s not nice," she muttered.

He kissed her neck. He wanted to leave a mark, but he never did where people could see. He kissed down her collarbone, undid the top few buttons to kiss her breasts.

"I’m a bad, bad man," he said and popped a nipple between his lips.

Charlotte undid the rest of her top for him, pooling at her elbows.

"Yeah, you are."

She held him close, arms around his shoulders, clutching his back. Ted had never known he cared about being held before she began drenching him with her clinginess. Nibbles against her skin made her huff out. He loved her breasts, no matter how much she hid them under layers of unnecessary modesty − her modesty always, always fell for him. The feel of her nipple hardening under his pursed lips, the pretty pink of the areolas, how soft and warm the skin.

"I could come over and fuck you good every night."

She moaned for him and her thighs clamped around his hand tight. Realizing the barrier, she tugged down the pants of her pajamas for him. He touched her better, fingers circling around her clit to press hard and Charlotte’s fingers dug deep at his back to encourage him. He looked up at her but her eyes were closed.

"I don’t get tired of you, Charlotte."

He never did, he never had. Not of her faked pretense of Christian guilt, not of the obscene display of lust that always followed. Certainly not of the way she held him so tight when he touched her, how she opened her legs to him and sang him her sweetest little moans when he pressed his fingers inside of her.

"Wouldn’t that be great?" One last kiss at her breast, another hungry one at her lips which Charlotte eagerly gave back. "Don’t you want that?"

She never replied to whatever soft words Ted kept letting out despite himself sometimes. He knew they were well received, though, for Charlotte's body always spoke volumes her lips wouldn't let pass. Clumsy fingers fiddled with his belt and Ted smirked at her efforts, distracting her with ever more pointed caresses. Finally, she unbuckled him to her desire and her palm and fingers caught him tight and fast. She looked at him then, her wide blue eyes from which fear was slowly fading, giving way to pleasure. He pressed a third finger inside and his thumb stroke her clit hard. She groaned and closed her eyes again.

"Do you want me to go down on you or do you want me to fuck you?"

The answer was a whisper, the shame of speaking out her human cravings, but Ted always loved for her to say the words. They sounded better in her mouth than his.

"Fuck me," she said. "Please."

Ted lied her down onto the couch better, cushions under her head for her comfort and to better gaze into her eyes when she dared to look up at him. He loved staring down at her when he fucked her, to observe for himself how attentive and receptive she was. His fingers caught around hers and together they guided his dick inside her.

"There," he told her in a low voice that only ever came out of him when he was around her, "How’s that for a Valentine’s?"

No matter how he railed her, often hard and good but sometimes mellow and comfortable, Charlotte always squirmed and squealed for him. Maybe the only conclusion to be drawn was that she liked being fucked by him, period, and whichever way at all. The way she gripped around his dick, how snug and fucking hot she was, Ted could never get enough either. They had never used protection, the arrangement between them that with others he used condoms but never with her. He liked it better that way. He liked her better that way.

"Yes, Ted," she moaned as Ted found a rhythm for her − something tender to show her she still deserved that, but with all the passion she craved to prove that she was worth the attention too.

She was eager to get her hands on him and his shirt was torn open and shrugged off to feel bare skin against hers.

"You just wanted this," he told her, cupping her face to keep their eyes to each other. Charlotte’s widened, the soft blue he had never given two thoughts about before but staring into them every other day when he porked her did have its consequences and Ted now gladly basked in pretty blue. "You don’t ask for much, do you? A nice good fuck on Valentine’s Day, that’s not a lot to ask for."

She didn’t reply, lost in sensations and, cramped on the couch as they were, her embrace was tighter than usual, her legs closer around his hips. He liked that a lot. They’d done it on this couch before. They’d done it on the armchair, the coffee table, in the guest bedroom, against several of the walls. One time she was feeling especially lonely, they had even done it in the master bedroom.

"Someone to tell you how hot you look," he said. He kissed her neck, her breasts, her lips, and Charlotte gave herself whole into the kiss, begging for even more. Her arms caught around Ted’s neck warmly. "To _show_ you how fucking hot."

He loved the sound of her moans, all restraint dropping from her when he did her good. Sometimes, he wondered if she moaned all the same for Sam. He wondered which of them she gave a better show.

"Touch yourself," he demanded.

"Yes…"

Her hand sliding down under him, three fingers rubbing her clit for him. With every thrust, he could feel her try to brush against his dick and groaned at the attempt. She was so wet, so warm, always the best token of confidence Ted could ever have asked for. Ginger hair messy across the cushions, hot pink cheeks. The look in her eyes when she moaned for his dick. He kissed her.

"You’re beautiful, Charlotte," he muttered and kissed her again.

She came first, perhaps for the desperation of a night she had thought lost. Clenching around his dick like the tightest embrace, moaning so prettily, she reminded him every fucking time why he kept coming back for more. Nothing was as hot as the look on her face when she came, the feel of her around him.

"That’s it," he said, more as a mumble to himself but she smiled up at him still, "That’s so hot."

He didn’t rush it for his own sake, for he loved these moments when she was all soft and satisfied under him, loved the way she still took him so good. Kissing, licking her breasts, her arms wrapped tight around his shoulders to keep him there and Ted gave her an ending to remember. Maybe that’d put a spark to her next time with Sam. He came with a groan, pushing in and out a last few lazy times before pulling out slickly.

He sat up and expected cuddles from her but Charlotte stood. Some sense of decency was put back in her outfit, pajamas buttoned back on, robe draped loosely back around her waist. Taking a long gulp from the glass on the coffee table, she took a few steps to search through her purse for her cigarette pack. Ted dressed back again and followed her to the kitchen, where she opened the back doors to have a smoke against the bannister of her small patio.

"Round two after this?" He asked cheekily and she smiled at him in corner, cigarette in hand, and never said no.

She handed him the cigarette. Ted took a long drag, slowly blowing up the smoke into the night air, a long white stripe cutting darkness. He gave it back. A hand at her ass, he pulled her a little closer, almost cuddling, and kissed her cheek. Charlotte gave him the softest smile, the cigarette forgotten, gazing into each other’s eyes. He leaned to kiss her again but a dull sound behind them made Charlotte pull back.

"Well," Sam sighed, "I guess this makes sense."

Ted dropped Charlotte’s ass − as if that mattered now. For a brief moment, he was taken with the sharp fear that Sam might turn to violence, but he quickly realized that this wasn’t the case. Not even a little bit. Sitting casually at the kitchen table, he was as apathetic as one might expect if he had walked into an empty house. His hair was tousled in a way that, to Ted, did not look like it was from the wind. He said nothing.

"Sam…"

Charlotte pulled her robe closed snug and hugged herself. She took a step towards Sam but no more. He looked up at her with disinterest.

"I…" She hesitated. From the back of her, Ted couldn’t see her face but the resolve was strong in her voice when she spoke again. "I want a divorce."

His mouth gaped open, though Sam looked as undisturbed as if she had told him what she was making for dinner. Silence weighed heavily between the three of them and Ted wondered if he ought to make an exit unnoticed but before he could get going, Sam shrugged nonchalantly.

"Alright."

Though she had sounded sure of herself, Charlotte took his utter lack of interest like a slap in the face. Grabbing Ted’s hand, she pulled him back inside towards the front door, only a small detour to grab a few things from her closet, her purse, and before he knew it they were leaving the house.

She waited till they were in his car and he had turned two or three corners to panic.

" _Oh my god_ ," she whimpered, "What have I done?!"

Her hands shook before she buried her face in them. Ted was driving around the blocks waiting for her directions but reached out to pat her back gently a few times. She seemed to hardly notice the touch, but after a minute or so sat back up. Her head sank back into the seat.

"What have I done…"

He found her hand on her lap and Charlotte gripped it tight.

"Do you want me to get you a hotel room or do you wanna crash somewhere? My place? Bill's? I don't know."

She looked at him like the very thought of spending the night away from her home was utterly terrifying. He hoped she would get used to it. Likely as anything, she might never spend another night there again.

"My place?" He repeated and Charlotte gave a reluctant nod.

"I can’t… I can’t afford a place of my own," she whined. "I can’t live on my own, and all my things are still there and… and the cats and…"

"You _can_ live on your own," he said. "You don’t have to but you could do it."

She was staring at him. Ted shrugged. Such a conversation was not ideal when he had to be looking at the road in front of him but he wondered if Charlotte wouldn't find it better this way.

"We'll go back and get your things tomorrow," he said. "The cats will be fine for just one night. Sam won't give a shit."

"No," she sighed. "He won't."

She sniffed and rubbed her nose.

"What will everyone say," she said after some time of silence. Her hand squeezed Ted’s, who squeezed it back. "At work, at church?"

"Good riddance?" He chuckled. "Charlotte, no one will care. You’re good."

She nodded, though he could see that she was entirely unconvinced. They didn’t live too far apart, the small town of Hatchetfield, and they were almost arrived at his place.

"I’m scared," she muttered. She turned to him. "I’m so scared."

It was pitch dark outside, only the blue-ish light above the doors to his building, and Ted let her pass in front of him. Once inside, he pulled her hands to his chest.

"It’s gonna be alright," he said confidently. "You did the hardest part just now."

A shy smile in response, like she didn’t believe him one bit but was touched by the trust. All of her own, she pushed herself to her tippy toes to kiss him. Her hands caught his collar to let the kiss linger on and she was the one who broke it, too.

She had been at his place a million times before, yet it still felt like opening her the door for the very first time when Ted let her into his apartment. Charlotte looked just as distracted, confused as him. He offered her the pullout couch if she so wanted, but she shook her head and pressed herself into his arms. Ted gave her a hug and the left side of his bed.

She had spent the night before, but always there had been the disappointment of waking up to an empty bed, Charlotte either fretting and getting dressed, or already gone. He held her close, her back to his torso under the covers, his face into the warm crook of her neck, and smiled at the thought of the morning to come.

"I’m proud of you," he whispered against her ear.

Charlotte’s hands caught onto his arms around her, making him hold her all the tighter, and sighed comfortably. She said nothing. All had been said already at Sam’s, he supposed. Before long, she was sleeping quietly in his embrace and Ted felt peaceful in a stupid way he didn’t understand. He liked that.

There was no guarantee what tomorrow would bring, much less any day after that. What he knew for sure, though, was that Charlotte could choose to sleep in his bed for as long as she wished.


End file.
